


Under

by sneetchstar



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Abbie in the Underworld, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:58:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9667091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sneetchstar/pseuds/sneetchstar
Summary: Abbie's journey into and exit from the underworld after she enters the tree. Post-season 3 winter finale speculation fic; spoilers for "Novus Ordo Seclorum".





	1. Chapter 1

Abbie only flinches a little when the opening in the giant, grotesque tree closes behind her. She thinks she hears Crane's voice on the other side calling to her, but is not sure if she actually hears it or just imagines it.

She pauses for just a moment, remembering the look on his face, the pleading in his eyes when he implored her not to go. His voice was soft, nearly a whisper, saying only, "Don't."

But he knew. She knows he knew, and knows he felt helpless as he watched her ascend the stairs and step into the tree. She is grateful he didn't take off at a run to pursue her.

It was frightening enough walking into this thing. She would have hated to hit it at a dead run just so he wouldn't follow her.

No. One Witness had to remain.

She can't even say why she decided to do this. She just… went. She stared at the glowing mass in her hands, absently wondering why it isn't absorbing into her body from between the cracks in the metal like it did Jenny's, wondering if her being a Witness was somehow protecting her from the shard's power.

As she stared, she knew. She just knew. There was no voice, no vision, just knowledge. _Take it into the tree. Return it to where it belongs._

She steps forward, onto the first step of a long staircase with no discernible end. She steps down, down, down, one foot in front of the other, walking automatically, still holding the glowing mass in her hands.

It is warm, almost hot, but does not burn her. It vibrates with a gentle hum, like she is holding a ball of bees.

Abbie reaches a split in the stairs and chooses the left passage, descending further into the bowels of the earth.

No. Not _chooses._ She doesn't make the choice. She just automatically goes that way, like she knows which path to take. Like these are familiar passageways she has trodden hundreds of times.

 _The shard must be guiding me_ , she reasons. She doesn't grow tired. Her knees do not ache from carrying her down the endless staircase.

She has no idea how much time has passed. It could be hours or days, but she eventually steps onto a landing. It is a vestibule of sorts, and there are three openings.

Again she takes the left-most passage, again walking without thinking, this time down an endless corridor.

She realizes with some surprise that she isn't afraid. When she thinks, she thinks of Jenny, torn between feeling like she did the right thing to save her little sister and wondering if she hasn't just abandoned her again. She thinks of Joe, glad he is back in their lives and hopes he will make Jenny happy.

She thinks of Crane, and feels an unpleasant tug in her stomach. She left him with nothing more than a "Take care of each other." The thought that he left her not long ago doesn't even occur. This isn't about getting even. This is about saving the world. What is her one life compared to billions, right?

_Sounds better than "you have a martyr complex" anyway._

The corridor ends quite suddenly. Dark water laps quietly against the edge of the walkway. She can hear it more than see it, since the walls and the walkway both end at the same place.

She waits, knowing that is what she must do now. There is no other option. She can't go back. She must wait. She looks down at her hands, at the item she has come to deliver.

It doesn't entrance her or draw her in. It just is. She finds herself wondering why it's so important.

The boat arrives after a minute or so. It is long, black, and helmed by a bearded figure in a robe. He turns his face towards her and gives the slightest nod.

She takes in his appearance for a moment, noting he looks a bit like a thin Donald Sutherland. _Or an ancient version of Crane._ Except Donald's and Crane's eyes are blue. Charon's eye sockets are bottomless black pits, each with its own flame dancing within.

 _Coin._ The word floats into her consciousness, and she quickly and carefully maneuvers the bundle of broken metal to balance on one hand while she digs into her pocket with the other. Surprisingly (but maybe not), the metal jumble keeps its shape. None of the pieces fall.

Abbie withdraws a coin from her pocket. It is a British halfpenny copper from 1770 – something Crane gave her as a token of luck not long after they met and realized their destiny. She remembers admiring it after she found it, forgotten in his pocket much the way a penny would be forgotten in one of her own jackets. When she tried to return it, he insisted she keep it, even though he had to know that such an antique could fetch a tidy sum, especially in its near-mint condition. But Abbie never sold it or pawned it. She has carried it with her since then, its slight weight a comfort in her pocket.

It is the only coin she has on her person. She has to give it to Charon if she expects to cross. The coin's monetary value is nothing compared to its sentimental value to Abbie. She looks at it, then up at the ferryman.

She knows he won't wait forever. Even now his expression, though blank, seems to be growing a bit impatient.

She takes a deep breath and holds out her hand, the coin resting in her palm. He plucks it up with his long, bony fingers, contemplates it a moment, then nods.

Abbie steps into the boat, finding it remarkably stable. She sits, holding the shard in both hands again.

The crossing seems slow, but again, time seems to have no meaning down here. She wonders how much has passed up in the world of the living.

The boat slides to a smooth stop on the other side, and Abbie steps out, nodding her thanks to Charon.

The silent ferryman watches her every move, and she wonders why. Wonders if he knows who she is. _What_ she is. What she is carrying.

She walks a short way and encounters a door. It swings open on its own as she approaches. Beyond it she can see it. The dog. Cerberus.

She expects him (them?) to bark, to be a three-headed mass of teeth and foam, snapping angrily at her. He is an impressive sight: a sleek black coat covering powerful canine muscles, not restrained by any collar or leash or chain. He stands like a sentry just beyond the doors and just _looks_ at her. The center head cocks to the side a bit in the way that dogs everywhere do. The left head makes a small muttering _boof_ sound, and the right head's mouth drops open and its floppy pink tongue lolls out as he pants.

Abbie shows the dog what she carries, holding her hands out in front of her, almost as if she is offering it to the creature.

There is a slight whine from one of the heads and the massive canine steps aside, granting her entrance. As she walks past, she glances up – up! – at the dog, who is a full head taller than she.

"Approach." A voice summons. It is a deep, calm voice that sounds almost bored. It is the first voice she has heard since she stepped into the tree. She cannot see the speaker, but she walks, having a pretty good idea about who it is. There is only one person it could be.

"You are brave, Witness. Or foolish," the voice says after several long minutes. Or hours. Abbie can't tell.

Hades. He doesn't look at all like she was expecting. On the other hand, what _was_ she expecting? A grotesque beast with horns, cloven hooves, and a tail flicking behind him like the devil? A burly, bearded man in a toga? A slick-talking caricature with hair like a natural gas flame, a pointy-toothed leer, and the voice of James Woods?

He's handsome. Very handsome. _Of course the god of the Underworld is handsome,_ she thinks, and immediately wonders if he can hear her thoughts. He says nothing; gives no indication he's heard her knee-jerk thought, so she keeps walking forward.

Her next thought is _He looks like a lost Hemsworth brother_ and she almost laughs.

"What have you in your hands, brave little Witness?" Hades asks. He is sitting on a large throne that appears to be carved out of some sort of black stone. Onyx or obsidian, maybe. He is _lounging_ , his elbow posted on the arm, head leaning on his hand, and his ankle crossed over the opposite knee.

Abbie finds her voice. "The Shard of Anubis… sir," she says, unsure how to address him. She isn't afraid of him; she has had enough classical history to know that Hades isn't actually evil despite his portrayal in countless stories and movies. "I'm returning it to you."

He finally lifts his head from his hand, sitting a bit straighter. "But the shard belongs to Anubis," he says. "It is not the Shard of Hades."

Her eyes widen slightly, thrown by the logic of his comment. Of course the Shard of Anubis wouldn't belong to Hades. But why was she compelled to bring it here? Why did it guide her steps so?

"Do not fret, Grace Abigail," Hades speaks again. Abbie doesn't even bother being surprised he knows her name. "Anubis," he says, not raising his voice.

"Anubis is here?" she blurts, her confusion taking over.

Hades chuckles. "Of course he is." He narrows his black eyes a little and asks, "Did you truly think that each culture has its own set of gods?" Abbie says nothing and he continues, "We answer to many names. Hades, Pluto, Osiris… Hel," he chuckles. It sounds dry and dark, and is the first emotion she's seen from him.

"Isn't Hel a… goddess?" Abbie asks, smiling a little.

Hades cocks an eyebrow in a very Crane-like way. "The Vikings are a fascinating people," he dismissively says, waving his long, slender hand just as a hulking shadow approaches.

Anubis is as frightening as Hades is beautiful. He is huge; nearly nine feet tall. He only vaguely resembles the stylized Egyptian drawings of the jackal-headed god. He is massive and muscular and his head is large and covered in tawny, not black, fur that extends just past his neck. He has large pointed ears, razor-sharp teeth, and glowing yellow eyes. If Abbie didn't know who he was and only saw the head, she would think "coyote". It is then she realizes she's never actually seen a jackal and only assumed they were black from the images she's seen of Anubis.

He steps forward on large, bare feet, a staff clutched in his giant hand. Abbie wonders if it is the same sort of staff from which the hunk of metal in her hand was made.

Anubis lowers the end of the staff towards her and she lifts her hands towards the disk at the end. There is a hole in the center, and once it is two inches from her hands, the glowing red energy flows into the hole. The connection lasts a long time, but Abbie's arms do not get tired as she watches the luminescent stream rising from her hands into the center of the disk.

The red glow solidifies into a stone in the center of Anubis' staff, looking like a large ruby, and the broken case in Abbie's hand crumbles into dust.

She drops her hands and Anubis gives her a grateful nod before walking away.

"Why did you return this item to us?" Hades asks.

Abbie turns towards him again. "This is where it belongs," she answers.

Hades pauses for a beat. "Why did you return this item to us?" he repeats, his tone exactly the same.

"To… to stop Pandora and The Hidden One from destroying the world," she answers, knowing better than to give the same answer.

Another pause. "Why did you return this item to us?"

She takes a deep breath. "To save my sister."

Hades gives a small nod, seemingly satisfied. "In saving your sister, you left her again."

Abbie looks down.

"And the other Witness is left alone. He will not last another 200 years until your next incarnation comes along."

She looks up, remembering Pandora's cryptic comments earlier that hinted about the reincarnations of the Witnesses.

"He will not last two years without you at his side. Your mission will fail."

"Why do you care?" she asks.

"I care very little about his fate or the fate of the mortal world," he truthfully answers. "I care about balance. He is there; you are here. Balance must be restored."

She angles her head at him. "I didn't think you were in the business of letting people out of the Underworld," she says.

He actually looks impressed. "You think I am going to let you return to the world of men? Perhaps I intend to draw your lover down to my domain," he says.

 _Lover?_ Abbie decides to let it go. "If… if you do that, things will still be out of balance," she reasons. "We belong in the World of Men, not down here."

He waves his hand again. "The world will be destroyed, the world will be rebuilt, humanity will begin to fail, new Witnesses will be born. It is the way of things."

She blinks. "But if we are repeatedly reincarnated, like you just said, we would no longer be down here anyway, so why not just cut out the middle man and let me go?" she boldly asks, figuring she really has nothing to lose. _I'm already in the Underworld, so why not?_

Now Hades blinks. Suddenly, he laughs. It is a loud, raucous sound, completely unexpected. "You are a clever one, Grace Abigail. No wonder you are so loved," he says, his laughter abating. "Andrew John, Lucas Javier, Daniel Elijah, Ichabod Nathaniel… all drawn like moths to the fascinating flame that is Grace Abigail, but only one truly has her heart," he finishes. "Yes, your flame burns brightly indeed. Brilliant, beautiful, and crafty besides," he nods. "Perhaps I _will_ have you stay."

"Isn't your wife due to return soon?" she shoots back, cocking an eyebrow.

"Hm," he chuckles once, actually looking a bit impressed. "You may return to the World of Men."

"Why?" she unthinkingly asks.

"You question my judgment?" he returns, eyebrows rising.

"No, I am… simply curious."

"Balance," he simply answers. "You are a Witness. You have no place here among the dead. Your soul is marked, just as your lover's soul. You do not belong in the realms of the dead. Moloch had no right to keep you in purgatory," he explains. He angles his head and asks, "How else would you have been allowed to escape that realm with such ease?"

She is about to protest that it wasn't easy at all, but in retrospect… it kind of was. Especially compared to extracting Katrina. "Katrina Crane said that a soul cannot leave purgatory without being replaced by another," she says, almost to herself. "And yet I was allowed to leave, even though I was there to replace hers…"

"Katrina Elizabeth should have remained in purgatory. The World of Men was no longer her place," Hades says, sounding about as tired of Katrina as Abbie had gotten just before it all went south. "But she and her child are now in my domain and they are no longer your concern," he continues. "You, Grace Abigail, have gained a unique privilege because of your… penchant for throwing yourself in harm's way."

"I don't—"

"Don't you?" he challenges, cutting her off. "Staying in purgatory to free a witch whom you did not trust… leaping into a rift in time to follow this same witch back to a time in which your life was in danger simply because of how you look… and now this. Your dubious travels have earned you the right to return to the World of Men to complete your task."

"Oh," she dumbly replies.

"God's favor gives joy," Hades says.

"I… suppose it does?" Abbie answers, puzzled at this curious phrase.

"Your name was not chosen at random, Grace Abigail. God's favor ensures your safety, but you must remember when you return to give joy," he says.

Suddenly it makes sense. Her name. "Grace" means "God's favor" and "Abigail" means "brings joy". She never thought of herself as much of a bringer of joy, but who is she to question the lord of the Underworld?

 _Jenny. Crane._ Two names come to mind. Two people to whom she is fairly certain she brings joy. She straightens her back.

"Now go. Leave now before I decide to keep you here as a wife during the time when Persephone is away," he says.

"Thank you, sir," she says, nodding respectfully, trying not to be rattled by his words. _Is he joking? Or is Hades, god of the Underworld, flirting with me?_

"Do not thank me yet. I did not say it would be easy," he replies, a small smile on his face. "And I only return you so that you may continue your battle, which is far from over. You may one day wish you had stayed here, Grace Abigail."

"Maybe. But if I'm gonna be reborn, I'd have to deal with it then anyway, so may as well get it over with, right?" she asks.

"Indeed," he agrees, sounding very much like Crane.

She starts to turn to leave, but stops. "How do I…?"

He simply twitches an eyebrow and says nothing.

She nods. "Right." _I have to find my own way out._


	2. Chapter 2

Ichabod is a shell of a man. Rarely eating, rarely sleeping, he is as single-minded as the berserkers they once faced, searching for the means to return his Lieutenant, his Abbie to him.

Jenny is nearly as bad, working tirelessly at his side. Joe makes them eat; he forces Jenny into her bed where he wraps himself around her to keep her there and keep her nightmares at bay while she fitfully sleeps. He can't do the same for Crane, but he would bet a large sum of money that when Ichabod Crane does return to Abbie's home to sleep, he is sleeping in _her_ bed rather than his own. Oftentimes he just winds up crashing on a cot in the Archives.

Abbie told them to take care of each other, and they are, but only emotionally. Joe has shouldered the responsibility of seeing to their physical needs, since neither of them seems to remember or care about things like food or sleep.

The only thing outside of this mission that Ichabod has done is to complete his citizenship test, which he only did because Jenny and Joe had the presence of mind to make him keep his appointment. He breezed through the tests, having already read the necessary material, and didn't even bother with the rant he had been preparing about the historical inaccuracies in the text, the deplorable levels of bureaucracy through which he had to wade to complete this task, and how the founding fathers are surely spinning in their graves over this entire process.

Zoe didn't understand the sudden change in him. She knew he was close to Agent Mills, but didn't – couldn't – understand the depth of their relationship. She was shocked to see how broken he was, and tried to console him with soft words and affectionate gestures. He spurned her attention, rapidly losing patience with her attempts. They felt hollow. Platitudes meant to make him feel better only sharpened the sting of Abbie's absence until he finally exploded at the hapless young woman. After that, their relationship changed to a detached professional acquaintance, and once he gained his citizenship, she congratulated him with a handshake and wished him luck.

He never heard from her after that.

He hardly noticed her absence.

The old Ichabod Crane would have felt guilty about it. The old Ichabod Crane would have apologized to Zoe, likely with some sort of grand gesture. The old Ichabod Crane might have continued their friendship to see if it would indeed have evolved into something more.

The old Ichabod Crane disappeared when Abbie did.

The new Ichabod Crane retreated further into himself, burying himself in research and failed attempts at breaking through to the underworld. He was willing to try anything – _anything_ – no matter how dangerous if it meant getting his Lieutenant back.

Agent Reynolds came around with Questions. Questions they could not – or would not – answer. Jenny and Crane were adamant Abbie was still alive, so Reynolds dispatched search parties. Looked for clues, leads, _anything_ that might lead them to Abbie's location.

Jenny and Crane knew the search parties would yield nothing, but they didn't deter him because it kept him out of their way for the most part. They were very careful with the information they gave so the FBI wouldn't encounter the crypt containing Pandora's tree. That would only lead to more questions.

The most curious thing was Agent Reynolds seemed almost as desperate to have her back as they were, which immediately made both of them very suspicious.

"He still has _feelings_ for her," Crane had snarled one evening in the Archives, spitting the word "feelings" like it was poison as he pored over _Orpheus and Eurydice_. Again. This time he was reading it in Greek, looking for clues within its words.

"Maybe, but I think there's something more there. He seems scared, but not for her. For himself," Jenny countered. "I think he was planning something – and not in a romantic way," she clarified, seeing Crane look up at her with his eyebrows at his hairline, "but… I don't know. Like someone higher up than him is pulling his strings. I just have a weird feeling about that guy."

"Indeed," Crane muttered. Then he thoughtfully nodded, knowing Jenny's instincts in this area are often frighteningly accurate.

xXx

A month passes. A month of research and digging and a couple of random, easily dispatched demons. Pandora and her husband seem to have mostly retreated for the time being. It makes things easier, but keeps Crane, Jenny, and Joe on edge because they are just _waiting_ for their foes to make their Big Move and they want Abbie with them when it happens.

One night, Crane goes to Pandora's lair with his axe and tries to hack his way into the tree. Jenny and Joe find him the next morning, bandage his hands, and put him to bed.

Another night, Jenny slips out with Grace Dixon's journal and Katrina's grimoire and recites spells at the tree until she is hoarse. Crane and Joe find her the next morning, give her tea with honey, and put her to bed.

Joe hangs on as best he can. He is desperate to have Abbie back as well, but also knows he is the only one who has mostly kept his head through all of this. But he does have a few moments where he allows himself to fall apart, quietly and alone, wanting to remain strong for Jenny. Crane finds him in such a state once, and the two of them get drunk until they pass out on the floor of the Archives. Jenny finds them the next morning, but doesn't say a word about it. She merely cleans up the bottles and quietly works until they wake up.

One month without Abbie feels like an eternity. Jenny and Crane cry on each other's shoulders countless times, often brought on by frustration and exhaustion. Crane tells Jenny he feels she is truly his sister, and Jenny tearfully returns the sentiment.

Then, one evening at 11:24 p.m., Jenny's phone rings. Jenny screams and falls out of her chair, bruising her hip on the hard floor of the Archives. It's Abbie's ring tone, Beyoncé's "Flawless". She leaps to her feet, ignoring the pain, and swipes a trembling finger across her screen.

"…H-hello?" She answers cautiously, just in case it isn't her sister.

"Jenny…" Abbie's voice is weak, but definitely hers.

Jenny's eyes widen and she looks across at Crane. His expression mirrors hers, and he looks rather unsteady. "ABBIE! Where are you?" she yells into the phone, tears streaming from her eyes.

There is a scrape, a clatter, and a soft thump as Crane faints, knocking over a chair as he collapses to the floor like a marionette whose strings have been cut. Joe runs over to him, but his eyes are mostly on Jenny.

"I'm not sure… in the forest…" Abbie answers. "Can you track the GPS in my phone?"

"Yes, yes, of course… Abbie, oh my God…"

"Just come get me… bring Crane," she says.

"You think he'd let me _not_ bring him?" Jenny says with a watery laugh. "Are you… are you… all right?" she asks, looking across the table at a very pale Crane, who is now conscious and seated in a chair.

Abbie laughs a little. "You're really asking if I'm still me," she says. "I don't know if you'll believe me, but I am."

"I believe you," Jenny says. "I have to."

"I'm cold," Abbie responds.

"We're on our way."

They drive like the very hounds of hell are on their tails. Crane wanted to drive, but Jenny told him no, not after he just passed out, and proceeded to drive with very little regard for the posted speed limit, easily following Crane's directions as he gave them.

Crane is still visibly shaken, his fingers twitching madly, and when he manages to still them, they tremble. All he can hear is her name in his head, over and over, like a mantra.

_Abbie. Abbie. Abbie._

He has never wanted something more in his life than to see her face, hear her voice, to just be near her again. Even if she suddenly hates him, she is _back._ She is _here._

"Turn here! _Here!_ " he shouts.

"There's no road!" Jenny says, squealing to a stop, pulling her truck to the shoulder. The three of them tumble out and begin walking, flashlights in hand. Jenny has a blanket. Crane has a thermos of coffee. Joe has his medical bag.

They don't yell her name, not knowing what else they might encounter in the forest. Best not to draw any more attention than necessary. Their feet crunch on the frozen ground, making prints in the dusting of snow over the crispy leaves and undergrowth. Crane leads the way, head bent over his phone, following the signal leading them to Abbie. He prays it is truly her. He prays that this isn't some trickery from Pandora and The Hidden One. He prays she is whole and uninjured and truly herself.

"How much further?" Jenny asks, her quiet voice edged with desperation.

Then they hear it.

"Jenny… Crane… Joe…"

Abbie's voice. They break into a run and find her sitting against a large tree. She appears to be in one piece, but she is shivering. When she left, it was during an unseasonably warm November, and now her leather jacket is no longer adequate protection against the cold.

"Abbie!" Jenny gasps, dropping next to her and pulling her into a tight hug, never wanting to let go. "Oh, God, Abbie… what were you thinking? Why did you do that?"

"It had to be done," is all Abbie says. She leans back and looks at her sister. There are tears streaming down her face and Abbie realizes her own cheeks are wet as well. They wipe each other's tears, and Jenny wraps the blanket around her sister.

"Here," she says. "We didn't stop at your house to get you a coat or anything. This was in my truck."

"Thanks," Abbie says. She looks up at Joe, lingering nearby. "Joe," she smiles.

"Abbie," Joe kneels down and hugs her. "Are you all right?" he asks, looking her over as best he can by flashlight, checking for injuries.

"I think so. I don't remember getting hurt in any way," she says. "I'm hungry though."

Joe chuckles and digs into his bag. "Here," he hands her a bottle of Gatorade. "You're probably dehydrated. Best I can do right now."

"Thank you," she says, opens the bottle and takes a long drink. When she lowers the bottle, she sees Crane hovering about six feet away. "Crane," she whispers.

"Abbie." His voice is tight and hoarse as he croaks out her name. He takes a tentative step closer, suddenly hesitant in the face of being reunited with her. He is too overwhelmed. His limbs feel like they are filled with lead, but he isn't sure if they will support him if he moves.

When he sees Abbie pass her Gatorade bottle back to Joe and begin struggling to stand, her uncharacteristic vulnerability causes Crane's feet to remember how to move and he runs towards her, absently passing the thermos of coffee to Jenny before his long arms reach out and pull Abbie to her feet.

She tumbles into him and he staggers back a few steps as they find their way into a desperate hug. Her arms are around his neck, holding tightly, her feet dangling near his shins.

He feels her body trembling as he holds her. At least he _thinks_ it's her; it is quite possible that he is shaking as well, overcome with joy at being reunited with her. His Lieutenant. He's not sure if he's laughing or crying or a bizarre combination of both, but he is indeed trembling and his eyes feel wet.

He adjusts his hold, shifting her a bit higher, and his lips are suddenly on hers, kissing her with a passionate ferocity that surprises them both. When she kisses him back, matching his intensity with her own, he clutches her more tightly, pulling her closer until he feels her legs wrap around his waist, just to hold on.

"Abbie," he breathes her name between kisses. "Abbie. Abbie." He can't stop saying her name. He can't stop kissing her. He can't stop the tears pouring from his eyes. They roll down and mingle with hers, and the only reason they stop kissing is because their lips are sliding messily against each other, salty and wet. "You have returned to me."

She slowly slides down until her feet hit the ground again. "Yeah," she replies. "I have. Apparently, I'm needed here."

"Indeed you are," he agrees.

Jenny clears her throat behind them. She's not surprised at their actions at all, but she is eager to leave the forest. "Much as I love the woods at night, I'd really like to get the hell out of here," she says.

"Let's get you some food and a bed," Joe agrees. "We can wait till tomorrow to hear about what happened to you."

Crane opens his mouth as if to protest, but decides against it, as he knows Joe is correct. He bends down to retrieve the fallen thermos, takes Abbie's hand, and leads the way back to the car.

Jenny catches up to them and drapes the blanket over Abbie again before falling in step beside her. Abbie offers her sister her other hand, and Jenny gratefully takes it.

In the car Jenny and Abbie sit in the back, huddled together, talking quietly. They even sing together a little. Crane wistfully smiles when he hears the chorus of "You Are My Sunshine," remembering the significance of that song.

Joe is at the wheel this time, (Crane was declared Still Unfit to Drive) and pulls through the Taco Bell drive-thru because it is the only place open. Then he heads for Abbie's house while she scarfs down three chicken soft tacos in the back seat.

"Call me when you get up tomorrow," Jenny says. "Like, the _second_ you wake up. We'll bring over some breakfast."

"Okay. Love you, Jenny," Abbie says, hugging her sister once more. Jenny replies in kind, then reluctantly climbs into the front seat before Joe drives off.

"I have kept the house tidy, as you prefer it," Crane says, escorting her up the stairs. "Your laundry is clean, and I have—"

"Crane," she interrupts, waiting while he opens the door. "Thank you, but it doesn't matter right now. All I want is a hot shower and my bed."

The door closes with a soft _click_ behind them. "I have been sleeping in your bed," he quietly admits.

She looks up at him, gives him a sad smile, and reaches up to lay her hand on the side of his face. He leans into her touch, and she brings her other hand up, holding his face as she lifts up on tiptoe to place a small kiss on his lips. "I'm sorry," she says.

Then she turns and heads for the bathroom and a shower.

Crane changes into his sleepwear and prepares himself for bed, then waits while she showers. She takes so long she drains the tank of the water heater, and he does not blame her one bit. She emerges, clean and tired, wearing flannel pants and a soft t-shirt.

When she finds him waiting in her bedroom she says nothing. She expected him to be there. She knows he won't sleep because he's afraid he'll wake up and she will be gone again.

She sits on the bed and pats the mattress next to her.

"I merely wish for the reassurance of your presence," he explains, sitting.

"I understand," she replies. "I kind of want the reassurance of yours, too."

"Kind of?" he asks, smiling for the first time.

"Okay, more than kind of," she admits, smiling back. It feels strange to smile. Like she's almost forgotten how. "Come on," she says, standing and flipping the covers back.

She climbs in and he slides in beside her. They immediately meet in the middle, Crane wrapping her in his embrace and placing a kiss on her forehead.

"I love you, Abbie," he whispers into the darkness.

"I know," she answers, snuggling closer.

He is not stung that she didn't reply in kind. He didn't expect her to do so. "I regret not telling you sooner. I suspect your actions would have remained unchanged by this knowledge, but it pained me to think you had possibly gone to your death without knowing."

"You knew I wasn't dead," she replies after a moment.

"I did. I refused to believe otherwise. But you are avoiding my point."

"Yeah, I am." Her voice is soft and sleepy. "I'm tired, Baby. I promise we'll talk about this tomorrow, but right now, I just want to sleep."

 _Baby._ His heart leaps, encouraged by the endearment, even if it just slipped out. "Of course. Forgive me," he whispers, kissing her forehead again. He says nothing more, lying awake until her body relaxes and her breathing grows slow and even. Only then, when he is certain she will not turn to vapor in his arms, does he allow himself to drift off as well.


	3. Chapter 3

Abbie wakes slowly, then suddenly, stretching for a moment before sitting bolt upright, eyes wide, as she looks around her bedroom.

_Oh yeah. I'm home._

_I'm home._

She looks down at the space beside her to see the unmistakable rumple left by another body. _Crane._ She listens, and can barely hear him puttering about the house. She can tell he is taking extreme care to be quiet so as not to disturb her, because he is normally not so silent in the mornings.

She looks at the clock on the bedside table. It is after 10 a.m. "Damn," she murmurs, impressed with how long she's slept.

She stretches again, then reaches up to pull the scarf from her hair. She chuckles when she hears the bang of the dryer door, followed by a curse word that isn't as quiet as Crane probably thinks it is. She laughs harder when she hears him shush himself.

Remembering her promise to Jenny, she grabs her phone and sends a text. She knows she was supposed to call, but this will suffice. _She's probably been texting Crane every 15 minutes to see if I'm up yet._

Abbie stands and looks around her room. It is exactly as she left it, save the disheveled bed. Then something catches her eye on the dresser, and she slowly walks towards it.

Her coin is sitting in the shallow dish where she always kept it at night. "Charon, what did you…?" she mutters, picking it up and inspecting it.

It is definitely _her_ coin. She recognizes each mark, running her thumb over a small scratch near the top before flipping it over. She ponders it another moment before setting it back in its dish.

She finds her fuzzy slippers, opens the door, and heads out to face Crane. She's feeling a little trepidation about seeing him this morning. _Yes, we kissed. Boy, did we. He told me he loved me. I didn't say it back. We slept in the same bed together._

_Where do we go from here?_

"Hey," Abbie says, finding him on the couch, blankly staring at the television.

"Lieutenant," Crane replies, immediately standing and walking towards her. He stops just out of arms' reach. "I… trust you slept well?" His fingers briefly flex at his sides.

"Yeah," she nods, absently reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "Better than I have in a long time. I think."

"I also slept quite well," he replies. "Better than I have in a month's time at least," he adds.

"Is that how long I've been gone? A month?" she asks, stepping closer. "I didn't really… you know… _feel_ time… down there. Not even sure it passes at the same rate."

He thoughtfully nods, then glances at the clock. "I trust you alerted Miss Jenny of your wakefulness?" he asks.

"Yeah, I sent her a text about ten minutes ago," she answers. "Look, Crane, about last ni…"

He holds up his hand. "Abbie, you do not need to explain yourself. I did not expect you to return my… declaration. I merely wished for you to know where my heart stands."

"Because you never know what might happen," Abbie whispers, looking down. She steps past him, sits on the couch, then expectantly looks up at him until he gets the hint and joins her.

"Indeed," he agrees. "However… I must point out that you _did_ return my kisses," he adds, reaching out and taking her hand in his. "Most enthusiastically, if memory serves."

"And it always does," she murmurs, smiling a little. "Yes, I did." She looks up at his face and sees an entire range of emotions behind his eyes. "Don't worry, I don't regret it. I'm not going to ask that we pretend it didn't happen or blame it on the heat of the moment. If I didn't want to kiss you, I wouldn't have."

"I am much relieved to hear you say those words," he exhales, then lifts her hand to his lips and kisses it.

"I wouldn't play with you like that."

"I know you wouldn't."

They hold one another's stare for a long moment. Then, Abbie speaks again. "I do have… feelings for you, Ichabod," she says, blinking away from his gaze. "Feelings beyond friendship. I can admit it now. I _want_ to see where this," she gestures between them with her free hand, "goes. How it develops." She goes silent for another moment, remembering how Hades referred to him as her lover more than once and how she hadn't bothered to deny or contradict him. _He knew. Of course he knew._ She opens her mouth to say more, but Crane speaks first.

"I know you are guarded, Abbie. No one knows this more than I," he says, kissing her hand again. "But I promise you—"

"No. No promises," she stops him, placing her fingers on his lips. "We both know you are capable of _saying_ all kinds of pretty things."

He nods and gently takes her other hand, kissing her fingertips before removing them from his lips. "Actions speak louder than words, as they say," he replies.

She smiles, grateful he understands. Then she looks around the living room. It looks exactly like she remembers it. _Exactly._ The books on the coffee table are in the same place they were a month ago. The coaster on the end table is still hanging slightly off the edge. The throw pillow on the chair is still upside down.

"You only kept the house neat because you were never here," Abbie observes.

"Well, 'never' is a strong word," Crane lightly protests. "I believe 'rarely' would be a more apt description of the time I spent here." He sighs. "It was simply too… full of your presence, but so, so empty."

She gives him a sad smile and frees one hand to lay it on the side of his face. He looks even thinner, which she didn't think could be possible. Thinner yet heavier, the burden of his worry and grief having weighed him down for so long that it is difficult for him to now shed. "I missed you, too," she tells him, hoping to help alleviate some more of his concerns. And unburden herself a little as well. "Remembering you – and Jenny, and Joe – were still here, waiting for me… it kept me going. Kept me putting one foot in front of the other."

"I…" Crane starts, then stops and looks down.

"What is it?" Abbie gently prompts.

"I very much wish I could have saved you from that place," he quietly admits. "If you will forgive my hubris, I would have loved to have been your… your hero."

She smiles and allows her fingers to lightly stroke his beard, marveling at the feel of it. "But you did," she says. "That's what I was just saying. You _did_ save me." She boldly traces his lower lip with her thumb. "And you _are_ my hero, Ichabod," she softly adds.

He suddenly leans forward and pulls her into a hug, as though he had been holding himself back all this time. "It is you who are my hero, Lieutenant," he whispers, his voice thick as his eyes once again fill with tears. He tightly squeezes her, afraid of letting go. "Abbie, I… I was so lost without you. I was empty. A… husk of a man, reckless, caring for nothing apart from finding a way to bring you back," he says, his voice husky with emotion.

She wraps her arms around him, hugging him back. The angle is a bit awkward and her back is straining, so she scoots closer until he finally pulls her onto his lap. He buries his face in her neck and deeply inhales. "I should be furious with you," he whispers. "Furious for doing something so… so selflessly, bravely foolish. For leaving Miss Jenny and me, thinking we could live on this earth without you."

"I'm sorry," Abbie whispers. "I'm sorry, but I had to. It had to be returned." She clutches him hard, her hand in his hair. She can feel his tears wetting her neck and soaking into her shirt. "I… can't really explain why I did it. But you did survive without me. You _did_."

He lifts his head. "Surviving is not living, Miss Mills," he says. He fixes her in his gaze and says, "You would not allow me to make you any promises, but I will ask one of you."

She wipes his tears. He wipes hers. "I promise I won't leave you like that again," she says, then places a small kiss on his lips.

If he notices her careful word choice, he gives no indication of it. Abbie isn't really sure if she phrased it that way purposefully or not. However, she _is_ fairly certain that if for some reason she does wind up back in the Underworld, she will not be allowed to leave quite so easily.

xXx

Jenny and Joe come bursting in a few minutes later, causing Abbie and Crane to leap apart like guilty teenagers. They were still on the couch, but their conversation had turned into one that does not use words.

"Wow, maybe we should have knocked," Jenny says. She sets a bag and a tray of coffees on the dining room table before coming back and hugging her sister for a long time. "So how was it?" she asks in her sister's ear.

Abbie lightly smacks Jenny's shoulder. "We didn't _do_ anything," she quietly says, her face heating.

Jenny gives her a look, then hugs her again because she just can't help it. "I'd be disappointed if I wasn't so happy to see you."

"Shut up," Abbie laughs. "Okay, we did sleep together, but it was just sleeping."

Jenny's head lands on Abbie's shoulder and she starts snoring, feigning sleep brought on by boredom. Abbie pulls away from her, laughing.

"Okay, since it's so late, we brought _brunch_ instead," Jenny explains, looping her arm around her sister's shoulder and guiding her to the table where the men are pulling food out of bags.

"Did you order everything on the menu? And who all are you feeding?" Abbie asks, sitting. On cue, her stomach betrays her and loudly growls.

"You and whatever that is living in your stomach," Jenny says. "Though Crane here could do with some solid meals, too."

"I believe you are throwing stones while residing in a house of glass, Miss Jenny," Crane pipes up.

"Yeah, neither of them were eating or sleeping very much," Joe explains. "I felt like I was their Dad."

Abbie stands again and hugs Joe. "Thank you," she says, giving him an extra squeeze.

"You didn't feel like you were my dad _all_ the time," Jenny says, a sly smile on her face.

Joe turns red and suddenly finds his fingernails very interesting.

Abbie looks between Jenny and Joe. "Wait, when did this happen? Here you were all up in _my_ business when you were keeping yours from me? How is that fair?" she asks.

"Didn't really have time, what with my being possessed and you deciding to be the big hero and everything," Jenny answers, reaching for a french fry. "It happened literally _right_ before you guys went to go turn the berserkers against each other. When Joe came to take some of my blood."

"He take anything else?" Abbie asks, raising an eyebrow.

Joe chokes on his coffee. Jenny laughs. "Damn, I have missed you, Abbie," she says, her laughter turning into tears as she looks at her sister.

"I missed you, too, Jenny. I missed you so much. All of you," Abbie says. She passes a napkin to her sister. "And I'm really happy for you guys."

Jenny dabs her eyes. "Eat first. Then you can tell us about what happened. Oh. I sent a text to Agent Reynolds last night to tell him you turned up," she adds. "We're gonna have to come up with some sort of story about what happened to you."

"Ugh, I know," Abbie says. She half-shrugs. "I guess I can always say I don't remember."

"Not unheard of," Joe adds, reaching for the club sandwich he got for himself.

"Yeah. We know," Jenny says, huffing a small laugh and giving her sister a knowing look. Abbie nods her agreement.

"I do not trust Agent Reynolds," Crane says. "So the less information we tell him, the better." Abbie gives Crane a curious look, and he adds, "Miss Jenny and I will explain our suspicions later. But first, you must tell us about your journey."

Abbie stabs a waffle with her fork and puts it on her plate. "Okay." She begins telling them all about her descent and long walk.

"Wait, wait," Jenny interrupts. "There was an explosion when the tree closed."

"Was there?" Abbie asks. "I didn't hear a thing. Were you hurt or anything?"

"Crane bruised his ribs, and I was unconscious for a little bit," Jenny answers. "Joe was outside when it happened, but he came running."

"I didn't know that was going to happen," Abbie says, frowning slightly.

"Yeah, we know," Jenny replies. "You can't imagine how we felt… watching you go through, then… _boom._ "

"I didn't think I'd get them out of there," Joe adds. "This one was especially unwilling to leave," he nods at Crane. "Of course, Jenny only cooperated because I was carrying her…"

"And that was just because I was completely wiped out," Jenny clarifies, then looks back at Abbie. "Though it would serve you right if one of us broke a leg or something because of what you did."

Abbie opens her mouth to say something, but closes it.

"Sorry," Jenny apologizes. "That wasn't fair of me. What you did saved us." She sighs. "It's just confusing as hell to deal with."

"No, I don't blame you," Abbie says. "I already apologized to Crane, but I want you – and Joe – to know: I'm sorry I left you. I was… thinking of the big picture and what needed to be done and…"

"I know," Jenny says, reaching over and squeezing her sister's hand. "Doing things for the greater good can be a real bitch when people love you." She glances at Crane and sees him nodding his agreement. "Okay. Continue," she says, waving her hand.

"Thank you," Abbie says. She picks up where she left off, telling them about Charon and her coin.

"But I just found that coin in your trouser pocket when I gathered your things to do laundry." Crane interrupts this time. After he had washed one of Abbie's favorite lip balms, he quickly learned to check all pockets.

"I know. I saw it on my dresser," Abbie replies. "I don't know how I got it back. I hated to give it up, but I knew I wouldn't get across if I didn't."

"Curious," he thoughtfully says, reaching for another biscuit.

"Yeah, so Hades was surprisingly handsome," Abbie continues, looking at Jenny.

"Seriously?" her sister asks.

Abbie nods. "Like… Chris Hemsworth hot. Young Brad Pitt hot."

"Wait, Hades is a blonde white dude?" Jenny asks, chuckling.

"Yep. And I didn't realize jackals didn't have black fur," Abbie continues. "Anubis. He was there, too. The fur on his head was light brown, but his skin was dark. Oh, and he was gigantic, too, but… I didn't get any real feeling of danger from him either, come to think of it. He simply wanted his shard returned."

"Whoa, now you lost me," Jenny says, holding her hands up. "Anubis was _with_ Hades? Was he, like, an exchange student or…?"

Abbie explains to them what Hades told her about them having multiple names and how he was actually somewhat charming. "And I don't know if he's _always_ a blonde white dude," she thoughtfully adds. "I think he can probably look like whatever he wants. Maybe it changes based on which name he's using at the time." She shrugs.

"Interesting," Crane says. "Did he have anything helpful to impart?"

"Not really," Abbie says, twisting her mouth to the side. "Well, just that you and I have been reincarnated a bunch of times to do this Witness gig."

"I had suspected as much already," he replies.

"Yeah, Pandora said something to that effect, too." She takes a sip of her coffee. "So anyway, he told me that the… realms were out of balance with me down there and you," she points at Crane, "up here, and that I could go."

"That's it? 'So long, nice meeting you, drive safely, text when you get home'?" Jenny asks.

"Not exactly," Abbie answers. "He didn't tell me _how_ to get back."

xXx

 _Abbie thanks Hades for his hospitality and turns to go. Only she has no idea_ where _. Returning the way she came seems too obvious; plus, she's not sure how to get out of the tree should she even reach it. And there is always a chance that Pandora and her husband are on the other side, waiting for her to emerge._

_"Right," she quietly says, and begins walking out of the chamber. She ignores Hades' soft chuckles following her as she walks. Her eyes scan the room, taking in all the details, calling on her police and FBI training to assess her situation._

Only one door. _She slows down a little, knowing there should be another option._ Anubis came from another direction. Where does that lead? _She turns, looking that way. A moment later, she turns in a direction completely opposite the single door and marches confidently towards it. It isn't the way Anubis took, but if Abbie learned anything from her time in purgatory, it's that these realms are all about intentionally messing with people. Especially if said person is_ not _dead._

_When Hades grows silent, Abbie becomes pretty sure she is on the right track._

_She reaches what appears to be a wall, she sees it fade before her eyes._

_She almost smiles, but then she sees Cerberus on the other side. And this time he is not placid. This time he is the snarling, snapping beast of lore, menacingly standing in her way._

_Now Abbie_ knows _she is going the right way._

_"Abigail."_

_Abbie whirls around, looking for her mother. She knows that voice anywhere. "Mama?" she whispers, deciding to be quiet just in case her mother isn't supposed to be helping._

_"You can do this, Abbie." Her mother's voice is sounding in her head, but she cannot see her._

_"I need to get back, Mama," she whispers. "I need to get back to Jenny. And Crane."_

_"I know, Baby. You will. Remember what I taught you. Remember… remember the_ good things. _"_

 _She says this last bit so pointedly Abbie knows it must be a clue._ Remember what she taught me. Eyes open, head up, trust no one. That I can do. Remember the good things…

The good things.

_Abbie closes her eyes. She hears Cerberus' incessant barking growing louder, more agitated. She opens her eyes and steps forward._

_The demon dog lunges, but doesn't reach her._

_Then, she takes a deep breath and opens her mouth. "You are my sunshine…"_

_As she sings, the dog begins to quiet. She takes another tentative step, her voice growing in confidence as she sees her efforts succeeding. She repeats the song, knowing there are more verses and wishing she knew them._

_As she comes within arms' reach of the dog, he whines softly and sits, all three heads tilting this way and that as she continues her song._

_Bravely, Abbie reaches out and pats a massive foreleg as she walks past. She keeps singing for a long time, eventually switching from "You Are My Sunshine" to "Proud Mary"._

_Once she can no longer see or hear Cerberus, she stops and sighs, wishing she had a drink of water but knowing that eating or drinking anything is a_ very _bad idea. "Thanks, Mama," she says aloud. "And thanks, Harry Potter, too," she adds._

_She looks around. She appears to be in some sort of wilderness. It reminds her of purgatory, but it is quite different. Less disturbing, somehow. It is dark; black on black, but she can see very well, as though everything around her has its own internal light source. If she closes her eyes, she can hear distant sounds. Screaming. Moaning. Pleading._

_No longer guided by the shard, she needs to really think about which way she is going. She needs to figure this place out so she can get herself home._

_She turns her head and hears another sound. Water, like a stream or river._ I crossed a river to get here; maybe I need to cross it again to get out.

_The only problem is she no longer has any money._

_Abbie decides to worry about that when she gets there. She walks over the soft ground. It feels like the forest in autumn; spongy with fallen leaves and pine needles. There are trees, but they are eerily still as there is no breeze to move their branches._

_She occasionally sees movement, but always in the fringes of her vision. When she turns her head, there is nothing there. After another unknowable amount of time, she sees the river through a break in the trees, black and shining in the odd light, lapping softly at its shores._

_It's much narrower here. She can see the other side. Instinctively, she knows swimming it would be a bad idea – there's no way of knowing_ what _is in that water. There are no fallen trees or anything she can use to fashion a crude bridge, and even if there were, she's not sure she would be able to build such a thing._

_As she stares over the river, a boat silently floats up to her, a hooded figure at the helm._

_The first thing she notes is Charon looks taller. Broader. And his hood wasn't up before._

_She steps closer, and a large, surprisingly robust-looking hand beckons her into the boat._

_Abbie is just about to step in, but hesitates._

_Then Charon looks up. It's not Charon._

_"Hey, kiddo." The soft gravelly tones of a familiar bass voice draw a gasp from Abbie. The twinkling, wise blue eyes meet hers for a second before he winks at her._

_Abbie steps into the boat on wobbly legs, realizing she's more nervous for her mentor and friend than she is for herself. She doesn't know how Corbin got Charon's boat and robe, and is afraid he's going to have to suffer some dire consequences if he is found out._

_"Have faith," he whispers, and pushes off from the shore. "And trust. You were never very good at that."_

_"I know," she replies. "But everyone I trust… and love… winds up leaving me."_

_"Not this time," he counters. "This time, you did the leaving."_

_Abbie nods._

_"Feel any better that way?"_

_Abbie shakes her head "No". He chuckles softly, then stops the boat on the far side of the river. "Hug your sister and my son for me," he says._

_"Thank you," she says, stepping out._

_"Anytime," he replies. "I'd love to stay and help, but someone is waiting for me to return his boat." He winks again, then pushes off._

So he didn't steal it. _Abbie watches him for a bit, then takes in her surroundings again. The moans and cries are much louder now, so she thinks she might need to walk_ towards _them. Even though Abbie is afraid of what she might encounter when she reaches them, she heads in that direction._

_She begins seeing the poor souls begging for help. Crying, wailing, even screaming, arms reaching out for her. Some are on the ground. Some bound to trees or rocks. Some half-buried in the earth. Some are whole. Some are missing pieces._

_All are horrible and heart-wrenching. She can see their numbers only increase ahead of her. As a person who instinctively helps others, she has to consciously control her natural impulse to alleviate their torment. Somehow. A hand reaches out and she wants to grasp it in comfort. A voice cries out and she wants to soothe its speaker._

_"You must persevere."_

_Abbie looks around. The voice is familiar, but she can't quite place it. She knows she has heard it before, and she knows it is benevolent, but…_

_"Grace," Abbie whispers as her ancestor appears on the path about ten feet ahead of her._

_Grace nods. "I do remember meeting you, Abigail," she says, a small, kind smile on her face._

_"The spell was supposed to undo…" Abbie says._

_"And it did. Yet I still remembered you," Grace explains. "Perhaps because I was assisting with the spell, but I never forgot meeting you. Please, keep walking. You are close."_

_Abbie nods and keeps walking. Grace keeps pace ten feet ahead of her. When she speaks again, she doesn't turn, but Abbie can hear her quite well._

_"I was tempted many times to write you a personal message in my journal," she says._

_"You know we have it?" Abbie asks, choosing to concentrate on her conversation with Grace to try to drown out the wraiths around her._

_"I do. It is as I intended. I did not know the reason I felt compelled to keep a journal until after I met you. After we undid what the witch Katrina had done, I remembered nothing from that day except for meeting you. And I knew I must give you as much information as I was able."_

_"Thank you," Abbie says. "It has helped us out more than you can imag—Aah!" She stops with a slight shriek as one of the moaning souls has managed to grab her jacket. His grip is like steel, and she briefly struggles, trying not to touch him for fear that if she makes contact she is doomed. She pulls with all her might, mindful that there is another one behind her, ready to grab should she stumble back._

_Just as she is about to remove her coat, the hand falls away. It falls away and lands on the ground, separated from its owner._

_Abbie looks up with wide eyes to see Grace standing with a long rapier in her hand._

_"I cannot stay and help you any longer," she says, her voice soft but urgent. "I… shouldn't have intervened that way." She opens her hands and drops the sword on the ground. It disappears. "Be strong, Abigail. Remember: your battle is not over. The world needs you. Your sister needs you. Ichabod needs you."_

_"Thank you, Grace," Abbie says just as she disappears. She takes a deep breath, checks her coat to make sure there is nothing else clinging to it, squares her shoulders, and walks forward, through the throng._

xXx

"It felt like I was walking forever," Abbie says. "After Grace left, I had no one to distract me, and it was just me and all those… people." She leans back, done eating. "I had to start thinking of them as 'things' instead of people," she says, explaining her hesitation. "It was the only way I could get through it. Especially when they started looking familiar."

"Familiar?" Crane asks. She knows what he is really asking.

Abbie reaches over and takes his hand. "Yes, I saw Katrina and Henry," she says, knowing his thoughts. "They called out to me. Especially Katrina. Henry… he was actually taunting me. Every time he said something to me he was hurt more by whatever was tormenting him, but he was undeterred. Luckily, he was stuck in the ground up to his waist."

"Well, you _did_ kill him," Jenny says. "Sorry," she apologizes to Crane, who simply nods, not offended.

"Katrina was begging for help like I was her best friend," Abbie says. "It was rather…" she trails off, not really sure how Crane will react to what she wants to say and not wanting to hurt him in any way.

"Pathetic," he supplies, surprising them all. "She revealed her fickle, tempestuous nature in the end, so it would follow that she would plead with you for aid."

Abbie sighs and shakes her head. "Trickery. That's all it was. I mean, I couldn't have helped her even if I wan— I mean, even if I was able to."

"Those places are designed as traps. Purgatory, the Underworld… they wanna be like those old roach motel commercials," Jenny says.

Crane's brow furrows, and Abbie chuckles. "It's a box to catch bugs. 'Roaches check in, but they can't check out'. It was the slogan on the commercials," she explains.

"Ah. In that case, it is an apt analogy, Miss Jenny," Crane declares.

"Luckily, this little bug had some help," Abbie says.

"Yeah, thank God for that," Jenny says, pushing away any nagging feelings of jealousy that threatened because her sister has gotten to meet their amazing ancestor _twice_ now. Plus she got to see Corbin and their mother, too. She knows Abbie had to deal with horrible circumstances in order to see these people and that her sister didn't choose her fate. And Jenny has become fairly certain that she was chosen to play a part in all this as well, even if that part involves getting possessed a couple of times. She stands, walks around the table, and engulfs her sister in another tight hug. "I'm so happy you're back, Abbie," she whispers.

"Me too," Abbie answers, and both sisters are crying again; crying and laughing all at once. They separate and dab their eyes with napkins from the table. "So… besides you and Joe becoming 'You and Joe', have I missed anything else in the month I've been gone?"

"You mean apart from us searching for a way to bring you back here, Crane finally realizing what Joe and I already figured out, and trying to keep your bossman off our backs by sending him on wild goose chases? Not much. Oh. There were some gremlins in a machine shop and a literal boogeyman that got too close to a schoolyard, but we could have handled those in our sleep," Jenny answers.

"I think I may actually have done so," Crane adds. "I think our primary concern now should be settling on a story to feed Agent Reynolds that sufficiently explains your whereabouts for the past month."

"Yes," Abbie agrees, reaching her hand over to him. He happily takes it, even scooting his chair closer to her.

"I think your idea about not having any memory is a good start," Joe says. "I can even put together some paperwork—"

Joe's words are cut off by Abbie's cell phone.

"Speak of the devil," Abbie says, seeing the name _REYNOLDS_ on the screen.

"Don't answer it," Jenny advises. "Not till we have our story."

"It's all right, I got this," Abbie replies. "Agent Mills," she answers, deciding to keep it formal. She also puts him on speakerphone, since they told her about being suspicious of him.

"Abs, you're really back!" Reynolds sounds extremely relieved, causing Crane to glower.

Abbie squeezes his hand. "Yeah," she tiredly answers. "I am."

"I'm going to need to know everything you can tell me," he says. "You disappeared without a trace for an entire month. I need details."

"Sir—"

"Oh, I'm not going to send anyone over to take a statement for the report today, don't worry. It can wait till you come back to the office."

"Reyno—"

"Whenever you're ready. Take the rest of the week if you need to," he presses on. "Even some of next wee—"

"Danny!" Abbie finally shouts. "Did you forget I turned in my badge?"

Crane, Jenny, and Joe all stare at her with shocked expressions, but thankfully stay silent.

Reynolds is also silent for a minute.

"You still there?" Abbie asks.

"Yeah. I… I guess I didn't think… I mean, you can come back, Abbie. I never submitted your resignation."

"I don't know if I can do that, Danny. I need time," she replies. She can see Crane slowly nodding beside her, and knows that he understands what she is doing. Gaining the upper hand.

"Of course," Reynolds says.

"And _if_ I come back, I'm gonna need you to respect my boundaries. Stop trying to get inside my head and leave the past in the past."

He quietly sighs, and Abbie's not sure she was meant to hear it. "Understood."

"You're going to have to find a way to accept that there are things I cannot tell you about my life," she continues.

"That might be difficult, especially if there's a case involved," he answers after a moment's hesitation.

"I know that. I also know it might be a deal breaker for my keeping a job there, but unfortunately, that's not a choice I can make," Abbie says.

"What does that mean?" Reynolds asks.

"That means when I say I can't tell you something, it means I _cannot_ tell you something," she explains.

"I… I'm not sure I understand, but I'll give you the time you need to figure things out. Call me when you're ready to make a statement. I don't want to lose you, Abs," he says. "As an agent, I mean," he quickly adds.

Jenny rolls her eyes, and Abbie replies, "I'll be in touch. Goodbye, sir."

"Have a good day, Mills," Reynolds answers, obviously seeing the wall she's just put up between them.

"Well done, Lieutenant," Crane says.

"Yeah, that was great," Jenny agrees. She looks at the clock. "Joe and I have a… thing we need to do, so… we're going to go. Do you want to meet for supper and we can tell you about how shady _Danny_ was while you were gone then?"

Joe looks puzzled enough by Jenny's statement that Abbie knows the "thing" they need to do is one another, but she doesn't say a thing. "Yeah, sounds good. We'll order some pizzas," Abbie suggests.

"Sounds good," Joe says with a nod.

They clean up all the takeout containers, there are more hugs, and soon Abbie and Crane are alone again.

"So, Miss Mills," Crane says, stepping close to Abbie, effectively trapping her against the closet door, "how do you recommend spending the afternoon?" He reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, then caresses her cheek.

"I think you and I have some catching up to do," she says. "And not just for the last month."

"Indeed," he rumbles, drawing the word out as he leans closer.

"My man," she softly replies, tilting her face up to meet his.

**Author's Note:**

> I was researching Hades when I decided to write this and saw that he was sometimes referred to as "The Unseen One". That seemed a bit suspiciously close to "The Hidden One", but for the purposes of this fic, they are separate individuals. And yes, I know I am mixing mythologies, but blame the show for that.


End file.
